


Reflection, Repercussion, Result

by luftballons



Category: Daredevil (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 11:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8444593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luftballons/pseuds/luftballons
Summary: A drabble about Maya Lopez during the events of the Daredevil (2016) Annual #1.





	

I am an echo of my former self. I am both her but not her. She is me but not me. Maybe that doesn’t make sense if you aren’t from our world, but now that I see it it feels more commonplace than ever. 

There was a war. The war was going to be the beginning of the end. In a way, it was. Everything died. And then it didn’t. 

Once, I died too. And then I didn’t.

Now she is running towards Hell’s Kitchen, she is running with my legs and with my body and she is leading with my heart. My heart that had been closed off to this affection. My heart that had learned and healed. But she opens the wound up fresh.

“Stupid, stupid,” I say under my breath, but she does not hear me. We do not hear. Instead, we run. Run because we are the only person who cannot hear this villain, and thus we are the only person who cannot be hurt.

 _Matt_ , she thinks. She says it with my lips. I feel the word on them and I want to take it back. I have never wondered what his name sounds like. She wishes she could hear it with every fiber of her body. 

_Marc_ , I wonder. But she does not allow her heart to listen. Our heart does not skip a beat at the thought of that man. Our heart does not wonder where he is or if he is alive or if he cried when he held our body. Our heart does not bleed, even though I will it to. Our heart does not care if Marc is alright. She is better at thinking with her heart. I am out of practice.

She only wants to protect him. She is strong and he is strong and she knows the word she wants to speak but I cry and I plead and I ask her please don’t. So she doesn’t, but I have won only one short battle. 

I realize it is because she knows something I do not. She thinks a name I have never heard. _Kirsten_. I do not know what this means. But she does and it makes her want to cry. 

Matt looks melancholy. I cannot tell you why. He is dressed in a stupid suit, that looks nothing like the one I have (begrudgingly) come to love. He looks more like the villain that Wilson Fisk warned me about. I want to tell him he looks stupid. 

It is not only that she doesn’t want to say the words, I understand suddenly, she doesn’t know how. She does not know that Matt and Daredevil are the same person. I wonder how she reconciles these stories we were told. I wonder how she remembers our lives. 

I realize Matt is like me. He is both Daredevil and he is not Daredevil. I wonder if he is an echo of himself, too. I wonder if he had to die. The war is a blank memory. The war is searing hot white light. The war wills itself not to be remembered. 

Many things must be like that. Matt does not ask us if we died. Matt does not ask us how we are alive. Matt does not even ask us if we are alright. I can feel her heart breaking, an echo of a pain I had once felt. 

I force us to say goodbye. I move her body through every movement. She is lucky I am here, she is lucky I remember how to move even as things are breaking. She has not learned, like me, how to be herself, but she will. 

Matt does not say goodbye. Or maybe he does, but we do not hear it. She wishes he had. I tell her it is okay. I tell her we are okay. We are not dead. I tell her even an Echo has power.

I think that she believes me.


End file.
